


The Sun, too, casts shadows.

by PhakeFysics



Series: Fallen Hero - Abyss/Anton [5]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Violence, Murder, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 12:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20257927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhakeFysics/pseuds/PhakeFysics
Summary: A sort of prequel/response to a snippet written by a mutual.Bold/italicized text written by SephtisThan!





	The Sun, too, casts shadows.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SephtisThan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SephtisThan/gifts).

The marble floors, vaulted ceilings and intricately carved support columns of the new Tax Collector’s Office in the business district were impressive. The building lie silent. Abyss had used the nanovores on the cameras, silently making their way through the semi-lit corridors, moving the cloud above their head as they walked with purpose. The telepathy dampeners were already shut down. 

Security was low here. They didn’t advertise or publicize this rebuild. But Abyss knew. Abyss would always find the corruption and swallow it whole.

Their cape billowed gently behind them, still draping over their form, obscuring the larger part of their body. Abyss’s armor seemed to flux and meld with the shadows, only one thing refracting any snippet of light was the red haze of the swarm flitting against the mirror face of Abyss’ helm as they went.

No giggling, no chuckling, no manic anticipation. Tonight was business. Moving to the security office, Abyss recalled the swarm into the gauntlet, simply turning the door handle and swinging the door open. The dark room was lit with several static monitors, silhouetting the snoring security guard, his feet propped up on the desk, cap lowered over his eyes.

The nanovores ate his chair, causing him to tumble to the floor with a yelp, startled awake. Before the poor sod could scrambled to his feet, a boot was at his throat, pressing with just enough pressure to keep him still and silent. Terrified eyes stared into the Abyss, his own horrified expression staring back at him. 

Abyss allowed the man to stare into that infinite emptiness, watching himself in his last moments before the boot applied strong pressure to his neck, effectively crushing the man’s throat, his dying gurgles and desperate chokes of air dying away with him.

Abyss turned with a flourish of their cape, heading to the central structure of the building. Now that they were alone to do their business, they pushed their cape over their shoulders, exposing the belt lined with explosives. 

Their signature bombs. 

Abyss efficiently placed the bombs, moving like a shadowed fluid, gliding across the marbled floor with silence. 

Their steps were halted when they heard a clicking...then a soft and consistent scraping. Abyss stood stock still, cape falling over their form once more. The scraping closed in from one of the west entrances - where they had come from. 

Then a modulated growl of a chuckle slowly rose among the silence. From the hall loomed a face that Abyss knew very well. Apollo. A man fancying himself as ‘The God of Los Diablos’. How adorable. A man with a god complex… cliched. 

Abyss stood silently, the mirror face reflecting Apollo’s image back to himself. Abyss stayed silent, watching the claws scrape against the wall, then the pillar, cape billowing behind Apollo’s person, heels clicking faintly against the marble floor.

Behind their helmet, Abyss felt their frown grow into a sneer. Apollo was nothing more than a peacock on display. 

“I suppose you aren’t here to pay your taxes?” Abyss’ cold monotone growled inhumanly past the modulators; a voice sounding like a thousand souls screaming in eternal agony. The voice of the damned. The whispers of the shadows, pulling at the dark corners of your mind, making you jump at everything that went bump in the night. A voice that turned anyone into prey; simpering and scared.

The imposing visage of Apollo loomed closer, pausing to seem to admire himself into the mirror face, moving to scrape his claws along the helm’s jaw: Preening. Someone who loved the look of themselves.

Abyss did not speak, instead waiting for Apollo to speak first. 

Finally, the voice rumbled out, low and rolling. The low, intimidating growl like a wolf baring its teeth, eyes glinting in the darkness, fangs closing around your neck. Abyss felt the fangs graze their throat, the wolf circling them with hungry, yet curious eyes.

“Not hardly,” The voice growled, a hand on a cocked out hip accompanying the statement before twirling to inspect the bombs that were attached to the support pillars. Abyss watched in silence as Apollo’s claws grazed themselves just above the string of exceedingly delicate explosives.

_ **Apollo spins on the spot, cape whirling and spreads his arms wide. “I offer a truce,” he practically coos, head tilted slightly to the side. “An alliance, if you will," he claps his hands together, and he's grinning under the helmet. "You see, I’m a big fan of your work, and I think we could work together rather well, if you give me the chance.” ** _

_ **He can feel the sharp gaze even through Abyss’ reflective mask, and he raises his hands passively. He doesn't want to make enemies here. Rather the opposite. “I won’t get in your way, darling, don’t worry. I’d just rather like to see you work your magic up close.”** _

Abyss did not move. “I wouldn’t think someone such as yourself would appreciate the finer art of… redecorating,” the shade of a villain replied carefully, evenly, their cape shrouding their form.

Apollo chuckled again - the wolf growling low - and let his hands lower briefly, placing them back at his hips, proud and expansive, making his form larger and more brilliant.

“A God needs a good looking domain, yes? And I find your city planning quite fascinating. Nothing less to be expected from the Master Architect of Los Diablos, hmm?” Apollo purred, striding right up to Abyss, haughty and confident.

Abyss retreated - gliding away, ever so slightly out of the reach of those claw tips. It was only to keep the Sun out of arm's reach. Abyss didn’t care if Apollo thought it weakness or fear. Abyss heard of Apollo’s tricks - those claws - the danger of flying too close to the Sun.

“Perhaps,” Abyss clipped tersely, leisurely rounding a column, pressing a string of bombs along the lower half. 

“What do you offer as tribute? The Abyss is not generous - an equivalent exchange must be met. And if you are found to be in debt… Well, The Sun casts a large shadow and the Abyss does not discern between what it swallows in its maw,” the cold voice echoed from the shadows, weaving its way through the supports, continuing its job.

The ball was in Apollo’s court once more. 

What would the God of Los Diablos offer to the Darkness?


End file.
